


one single thread of gold

by kangbora (ohfiitz)



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Christmas Vacation, Holidays, M/M, Reunion, man idk what else to tag this, yes i am posting christmas fic in october what about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26816413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfiitz/pseuds/kangbora
Summary: Jae used to receive a knitted sweater from his childhood friend, Wonpil, every Christmas for almost a decade. Until one year the sweaters suddenly stopped coming, and Jae embarks on a long overdue trip to Seoul to find out why.
Relationships: Kim Wonpil/Park Jaehyung | Jae
Comments: 16
Kudos: 82





	1. time, curious time

For the record, Jae is completely aware of how ridiculous this whole thing is. He knew it was stupid from the first moment he toyed with the idea; he knew it was stupid when he started looking at flights to Seoul; he knew it was stupid when he finally booked a ticket after downing half a bottle of wine one particularly lonely Saturday night. And he knows it’s stupid now, strapped into a Boeing 777 for a fourteen-hour trip to the place he was supposed to leave permanently some twelve years ago.

He presses the seatback screen in front of him and checks the flight status: eight more hours until they arrive in Seoul. He groans, pulling the too-small fleece blanket up to his shoulders in an attempt to go back to sleep. Had he stayed in L.A., he’d be busy on his computer right now, sending out resumés and pretentious cover letters or working unpaid internships or volunteering at some unknown nonprofit for the “experience,” like the rest of his graduating class is probably doing. The uncertainty of that grind and the reminder that it was, in fact, what he had been doing for the past five months were the only things keeping him from regretting this trip.

_“Maybe this vacation will give you clarity, give your soul the right push towards what you truly want to do with your life.”_ That’s what his best friend Brian told him when he first floated the idea. _“This vacation will get me deeper into debt, is what it would do,”_ Jae tried to retort, but honestly it was hard to argue against Brian when there was nothing really better waiting for him in L.A., anyway.

And then there’s Wonpil.

Kim Wonpil was a friend Jae had growing up in Seoul. Their parents were longtime friends and, despite having opposite personalities, the two boys found common ground through their love for music and video games. By the time they got to third grade, they were practically inseparable. When Jae and his family left for America when he was ten, he and Wonpil made three promises:

  1. Jae will come back from America as soon as he saves up enough money.
  2. Wonpil will send Jae a present every Christmas.
  3. They will always be best friends for as long as they live.



The third promise was the one they broke first. Of course. They were two young boys who were going into puberty during the early years of social media. There was no Instagram, or Facebook, or Twitter, and instant messaging was a pain in the ass. And time zones – time zones were a thing too. And high school. It was a period of self-discovery and self-creation, of molding one’s identity into various shapes and sizes to fit into everyone else’s box. It was just a matter of time they grew out of each other’s.

Jae supposes he’s fulfilling the first promise now, however late and unplanned it is. It’s the second promise that confounds him.

During his first years in America, Wonpil would send him a knitted sweater every Christmas. At first it was Wonpil’s mom who knitted them. The sweaters were soft and comfy and a little too big for Jae’s lanky torso and when they came in the mail Jae would hug them for hours until the then-familiar scent of Seoul was gone. And then Wonpil learned to knit them on his own, and the sweaters began to be smaller, more fit to his frame, and less polished. They also exchanged letters and other gifts, of course, although the frequency thinned out over time, but the sweaters were a constant regardless of how far they drifted apart. Until one year when Jae was in university, he just stopped receiving them.

And now he’s here. Making do with a tiny blanket on a fourteen-hour flight to see his childhood best friend who may or may not even want to see him.

He groans another time and snugs the blanket more tightly. Maybe his decisions will sound more reasonable when he’s had enough sleep.

\---

Jae checks into a cheap travel hostel and spends his first couple of days in Seoul sleeping his jet lag off and wandering aimlessly around the city. The place has changed so much since he last saw it and there’s honestly so much to see that’d probably never run out of things to do in the entirety of his stay, but by the third day he is once again tormented by the nagging question in his head. So he sets out one morning to find the address that his aunt sent him, just to get it over and done with. And maybe then he’ll be able to enjoy the rest of his vacation uninterrupted.

Jae always thought that Seoul is most beautiful in winter. He remembers looking forward to it as a child, sprinting out to the streets with Wonpil as soon as the first snow falls. He feels the same excitement now, inhaling the chill as he meanders through buildings and alleyways dotted with festive holiday décor. The address leads him to a tiny, two-storey property in Seongdong. _Moon Blossom Piano Academy,_ the Korean signage reads. Jae spots a doorbell and rings it, wringing his gloved hands nervously as the door creaks open.

And there he is. A few inches shorter than Jae, clad in black pants and a black hoodie that’s a couple sizes too big for his small frame, curly hair sticking out in all directions. The domesticity of the sight catches Jae off-guard and he just stands there with his mouth open for three whole seconds.

“Uh.” _Say something, you idiot._ “Wonpil?”

The guy at the door blinks at him, once, twice, and Jae marvels at how his eyes are still as bright and youthful as they were at eight years old. A gust of wind blows his poofy hair out of his eyes and Jae sees recognition dawn on his face.

“Jaehyung?”

_Oh… right._ For a moment, Jae forgot he even had a Korean name. It’s been so long since he heard anyone say it out loud.

“Jaehyung! It’s really you! You’re here!” Wonpil opens the door wider and launches himself at Jae, hugging him tight without hesitation.

“Yeah, um. Hi.” Jae’s body freezes, not being used to his friends back in America being this comfortable with physical touch.

Wonpil misses Jae’s shock and lets him into the building, showing him around the tiny studio he uses to hold piano classes. The second floor serves as his apartment, so the place is practically where his entire life revolves around. “It’s not bad,” he explains. “This spot is near quite a lot of schools so I have plenty of students, and the rent is as reasonable as it could get in this area of Seoul.”

He also takes on wedding gigs every now and then, says it breaks the monotony of running the academy and forces him to get his introverted ass out of the house. “That’s pretty much it. I live a very small life, as you can see,” he ends, gesturing around his space.

“Do you do it because you like it, or because you haven’t been brave?” Jae quips absentmindedly, then realizes it probably came off as a rude remark. “That’s—sorry, that’s a line from my favorite movie.”

Wonpil just beams at him. “ _You’ve Got Mail_ , I know. I watch that movie every Christmas.”

Jae smiles back, relieved that his reference didn’t go over the other man’s head and that they still share the same taste in movies after all these years.

“So, how have you been, Jaehyung? What brings you here?”

“I… uh… I go by Jae now, actually. Just Jae.”

Wonpil lets out a light chuckle, sweet and melodic, like the lingering notes from a music box when a song ends. “Okay, Just Jae. Tell me everything.”

Jae fills him in on his own life: his first years away from Korea, learning English and trying to be as American as he could be, the highs and heartbreaks of high school, the wild, free, ambitious years of college and the misery that comes right after. Wonpil asks him why he took up political science in the first place and he comes up with nothing. Jae tells him about the months after graduation, about the hopeless job hunt and suddenly feeling like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do and even what he _wants_ to do or the kind of person he wants to be, about how Brian told him he might find the answer through this trip. He considers bringing up the topic of the sweaters but figures it’s probably not the right time. It’s already too much information to be dumping on someone he hasn’t talked to in years, but Wonpil takes it all in, listening intently with his round eyes trained on Jae all the while.

Wonpil is silent when Jae finishes talking. He appears to contemplate something for a few seconds, looking around the room as though hatching up a plan and Jae half-expects him to shoo him out or politely excuse himself or something, but instead he just says, “You can stay with me if you like. While you’re here. My sofa converts to a bed and this place is probably better than whatever shoddy inn you’re staying at.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose.”

“Psh, don’t even start with that, Park Jaehyung. You know you’d never be a bother. You’re my best friend.”

Wonpil sounds earnest, like he always is, and Jae basks in the odd sense of comfort it offers. He accepts the offer and says goodbye as Wonpil’s student arrives, going off into the cold afternoon feeling surer than ever that going on this trip was the right thing to do.

\---

Jae checks out of the hostel and moves into Wonpil’s place the next day. When he accepted his friend’s offer, he assumed he would be sleeping at the sofa-bed he mentioned, but Wonpil insists he take the bedroom instead.

Regardless, Jae hangs out in the living room while waiting for Wonpil to end his classes. Wonpil’s second-storey apartment is small but cozy, furnished with simple furniture and a few framed photos of Wonpil’s family and piano performances. He spots a guitar sitting by the corner and takes it as he settles on the couch. He starts strumming idly, fingers moving in a familiar rhythm despite quite a long period of inactivity. 

“I didn’t know you still play.” Wonpil’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Jae looks up and finds him by the staircase, leaning on the wall with his arms folded and yet another big smile on his face. Jae tries to remember if he used to smile this much when they were kids.

“Honestly? I haven’t played much since high school. Feel like college sucked out all the creativity out of me.”

Wonpil nods solemnly, although Jae doubts he understands what it feels like when he’s been doing music literally all his life. He appreciates the gesture, though.

“You still got it, though. That riff you just did was better than anything I’ve heard from the moonlighters I play with at weddings,” Wonpil assures him. He walks to the fridge and studies its contents before facing Jae again. “Beer?”

Jae nods with a smile and goes back to playing the guitar until Wonpil hands him a bottle, already uncapped. The two start to sip their drinks quietly, and Jae is pleasantly surprised at how comfortable the silence is, even though they have years and years of being apart to catch up on. The laidback mood emboldens him to breach the topic he set out to discuss.

“I actually have something to ask you. That’s why I came here,” he starts carefully, gauging Wonpil’s reaction. Wonpil cocks his head slightly to the side, urging him to go on. “Why did you stop sending me sweaters?”

Wonpil lets out a laugh – one of those loud, boisterous Wonpil laughs – and Jae feels something warm settle in his chest. He feels his cheeks blush as he looks away. Is it the beer? It’s probably the beer.

“You came all the way here to ask me that? I thought you’d outgrown them by then. And let’s be honest, Jae, we hadn’t been keeping in touch for a while I didn’t even know if you still remembered me.”

_Oh._

“Oh. That makes sense.” Jae tries not to sound too disappointed.

He takes another swig of his drink and tries to process the implications of finally getting the answer he wanted. _What now, then?_ He _did_ fly all the way here to ask that question when the answer was, should’ve been so obvious. Although, if he’s being honest, he’s starting to think it was just an excuse he made up for himself to justify his impulsive decision to run away from the stump he was stuck in in America.

It’s Wonpil who breaks the silence.

“Tell you what,” he starts, eyes still trained on Jae as though studying him. “I can teach you how to knit while you’re here. That way you’ll have something to do when you’re bored and a new skill to bring back home.”

“That’s… that sounds fun, Wonpil, but you’re already letting me stay here for free. I can’t possibly bother you with another favor.”

“And so?” Wonpil shrugs. “It’s no big deal. I like having you around. Although…”

“What?”

Wonpil pauses then clasps his fingers slowly, dramatically, eyes turning even brighter with palpable excitement.

“I _could_ use a guitarist for an upcoming gig.”

It’s crazy. It’s a terrible idea. Jae’s only ever played the guitar for himself, or when he’s with his closest friends. Just the thought of doing something he’s not used to in front of a crowd – and worse, the possibility of being bad at it – makes him anxious.

“Wonpil… I told you I haven’t played in a long time. I’ve never even played in public before.”

“It’s a couple of weeks from now, we have plenty of time to practice. Plus, the wedding will be held at a beautiful nature park in Gangwon. It would be a great breather from the chaos of Seoul. You don’t have anything lined up for the rest of your stay anyway, right?”

Jae considers the proposition again. He doesn’t know if it’s because of Wonpil’s optimism, or Wonpil’s ridiculously bright smile, or the prospect of seeing the Korean countryside during winter, but the idea actually doesn’t sound as crazy as it did a minute ago. Besides, what’s one day of trying something new? _“Maybe this vacation will give you clarity, give your soul the right push towards what you truly want to do with your life,”_ he hears Brian prod him in his head. Jae was never the type of person who would take such a big leap outside of his comfort zone, but he figures if there was a perfect time to try being a little braver, it would be this instant.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

Wonpil lets out a squeal and pulls him into a hug, and Jae forgets every single one of his doubts.


	2. time, mystical time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note that we're shifting to wonpil's pov this chapter!! unedited so pls forgive any errors TT

There is something about the winter holidays that makes Wonpil feel ironically warm. Maybe it’s the festive lights and the carols; maybe it’s all the days he gets off work when all the kids are on vacation. Maybe it’s the familiarity that tradition offers, too. He isn’t even religious but to Wonpil, Christmas is like an old friend that he can always expect to greet him with open arms every year. It’s not a very grand occasion but it does bring him small joys. The scent of chestnuts and peppermint. The comfort of hot chocolate. The cheery bustle of gift-hunters in Seoul’s shopping districts. What he told Jae was true – he does lead a very small life. Valuable, satisfying – happy, even, when he’s confident enough to admit it – but small.

That’s why Wonpil didn’t quite understand when Jae told him how he’s searching for his life’s ambition. This lack of some sort of prize to spend his whole life working towards seems to bother Jae so much that he flew all the way to South Korea to find... whatever it is he's trying to find. It simply doesn't make sense to Wonpil why it's such a big deal. To him, _this_ is enough. Why stress yourself out looking for some grand purpose when everyday, life offers you enough of its little miracles? Asking for more sounds a little bit greedy, if Wonpil is being honest, but of course he doesn’t tell Jae that. It’s probably an American thing that he would never understand, like Jae’s apparent discomfort with physical touch, or the way he wears his backpack – hitched all the way up to his shoulders, like the world depends on how well he carries its weight. His childhood best friend really has changed so much; but then again, he supposes that's what a whole decade away from home does to a person.

Still, Wonpil is thankful for the change of pace that Jae’s arrival brought to Christmas season this year. Jae is polite and considerate enough not to cause too much disruption, but a few days is enough to make noticeable changes to Wonpil's established routine (or, as Sungjin likes to call it, his life as a twenty-something _ahjuss_ i). By the end of Jae’s first week, they’ve started to build a comfortable rhythm: Wonpil shows Jae around Seoul, Jae does the chores while he holds classes, they practice their setlist for the wedding every once in a while, he teaches Jae how to knit every night as they exchange stories over a bottle of beer each.

Jae is a fast learner, albeit a little impatient. His fingers are nimble and deft from years of playing the guitar so it doesn't take him too long to get used to handling the needles, but his sense of focus needs a little more work. Again, Wonpil figures its the American in him, so used to instant results and getting everything done with a mindless click of a button or a swipe of a card. Still, his friend seems determined to learn and puts on diligent work on both the knitting and the music practice.

Jae meeting Dowoon, however, was never part of the plan.

Wonpil and Jae are closing shop for the day, clearing the studio of the books and little trinkets left behind by the students to set up their own instruments, when Jae asks hesitantly, “What happened to your usual guitarist again? Are you sure he can’t make it? Maybe his plans changed last-minute and he can still make it.”

“Well, he’s the one getting married so yes, I’m sure.” Wonpil says with a playful eyeroll. “There’s no need to be so nervous, you know. It’s an intimate wedding and it’ll only be the two of us on stage anyway since our drummer is off to Sapporo or whatever for a holiday, so--”

“Hyuuuuuung! Guess what! I’m joining you!” As if on cue, Dowoon, Wonpil’s friend and drummer extraordinaire barges into the studio with the unexpected news that he is, in fact, not going to Sapporo or whatever and will be available to play at Sungjin's wedding.

Sungjin and his bride, Minji, whom they met when she was a junior from the voice department of their college and possibly the kindest woman in the world, chose a stunning nature park in Gangwon-do as the venue for their wedding. The quiet, idyllic charm of the place is even more palpable on the big day. The spacious land is filled with birch trees blanketed with a layer of snow, and the December sun casts a glistering, almost mystical glow onto the frozen lake. The only word Wonpil can come up with to describe the place is _enchanting_.

Beside him, Jae is equally awestruck, making a full scan of the place with his mouth slightly agape and his eyes making that blinking thing they do when he's trying to focus on something. It makes Wonpil's chest swell with something unexplainable. He starts to walk towards the front office when he accidentally steps into a puddle of melted snow, almost slipping completely if not for Jae catching him just in time.

"Be careful," Jae says, grasping his hand to guide him back to the dry path. The contact sends Wonpil's nerves in a frenzy, probably because of the cold, and he tenses up. Jae senses his reaction and instantly pulls his hand back to his pocket. "Oh, sorry, my hands are freezing"

Wonpil tries not to notice how his hand suddenly feels empty.

The wedding flits by easily, better than Wonpil would have ever expected. Jae is a natural performer, and Dowoon manages to maintain perfect chemistry among the three of them despite only being able to practice a few days prior. They perform an acoustic set of love songs personally selected by the couple, and, despite the cold weather, the occasion transpires with so much love and warmth it brings Wonpil to tears at one point.

After the guests disperse and the newlyweds are sent off, Wonpil, Dowoon, and Jae are finally left to enjoy their stay in the park's accommodations for a night. The trio are just beginning to explore the vicinity when Dowoon expresses a sudden craving for barbecue, leaving Wonpil and Jae to themselves in the suddenly too-quiet winter night.

Wonpil almost jumps in surprise when he feels Jae’s chilly fingers gently grasp his palm, the same way he did earlier in the day. Only this time, he doesn’t let go. Wonpil breaks into a smile and clasps Jae’s hand tighter, pulling the other man so close that their shoulders almost touch.

They walk like this for a few minutes, holding hands and stealing glances in the dark night lit only by the few lampposts scattered around the area. In this dimness, all Wonpil can see are the wisps of vapor from their chilly breath and the glint of teeth from when Jae tries desperately not to giggle. The rapid patter of his heartbeat brings Wonpil back to a period in his life that he tried to bury in his memory a long time ago. It was a time filled with so much confusion and resentment and longing, and he wishes never to have to confront those feelings ever again.

But here is a boy who flew six thousand miles across the world to hold his hand, and he knows the least he could offer is his honesty.

“Jae, there’s something I need to tell you.” He stops in his tracks and pulls on Jae's hand. Jae tilts his head, full attention on him, and Wonpil sucks in a breath before diving to the point before he can even overthink it. “You asked me why I stopped sending the sweaters. The reason I gave was true but that’s… that’s not everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was in college, I got into a relationship. My very first one, actually. Don’t laugh at this, but one of the biggest causes of our fights and our eventual breakup was the sweaters.”

A pause. Then Jae turns to face him fully, still clutching his hand. “I don’t understand.”

“They were jealous that I was knitting sweaters for you and not them.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

In hindsight, it truly _was_ ridiculous. At the time, though, it was a heartbreak that Wonpil simply wasn't ready for. Jinyoung was Wonpil's first love, and their relationship had started with great promise. It was grounded on friendship and Wonpil had found in Jinyoung a safe place to be his most genuine self, with all his fears and doubts and dreams he didn't even admit to himself sometimes. So really, he never imagined an argument about sweaters and a childhood friend he hasn't even properly talked to in years would be the one to break it. But Jinyoung had said something about Wonpil needing to let go of past attachments and regrets, which somehow blew up into a whole theory about how maybe the reason Wonpil liked him in the first place was because he saw this childhood friend in Jinyoung, which led to even longer and harsher fights and eventually to a rather ugly breakup. 

“I know. It’s very stupid. But we were young and it really got to me and I didn’t know you would even mind if I stopped making them so I just never got back to it. So… I’m sorry.”

Jae squeezes his hand again. “Hey, no need for that. You were right, we weren’t even talking anymore at that point, so it was kind of pointless anyway.”

“But you came all the way here to find out why, and all you got was this stupid story about my pathetic love life.”

Jae stays silent for a few beats and for a moment, Wonpil almost expects him to say thank you and good bye and jump straight on a flight back to L.A., but instead he draws a deep breath, as though collecting the right words to say, then lets out a whisper.

“I don’t regret it a single bit, though. Coming here.”

That finally makes Wonpil look up, though he still can't bring himself to look at Jae's expression, so he directs his eyes at the fur-lined collar of Jae's jacket instead.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It brought me back to you,” Jae says softly, and everything shifts.

Wonpil had known it at the back of his mind: he was falling in love with Jae. But it didn’t feel real, until now. It was simply a fact, something he could easily ignore. Wonpil was good at ignoring things like this. But the tremor in Jae's voice makes something snap and suddenly everything feels realer, louder, more delicate all at the same time.

He risks taking a look at Jae and finds the taller man already gazing at him with a look that’s almost hungry, almost tender, almost too honest and too real for his heart that’s almost in love. For a split second, he thinks he finally gets it, the greed that Jae has for a good life. He wants more of it, too. More of this. More of this moment and more of this beautiful person in front of him.

Jae meets his eyes and breaks into a smile, which makes Wonpil beam back at him. He sees Jae’s eyes dart to his lips and he instinctively closes his own as he leans in, and then…

“Do you guys want some barbec—oh.”

They jump apart at the sound of Dowoon’s voice. Dowoon immediately turns around and darts back to the lobby upon realizing what he ran into; but by the time Wonpil turns back to look at Jae, the moment has passed and was replaced by a strained awkwardness.

"Uhh," Jae clears his throat and pulls his hand out of Wonpil's grasp. "We should probably head to bed soon, right?"

"Right..." Wonpil exhales and tries not to sound too disappointed. It really has been a long and tiring day, and he trusts Jae to not leave... whatever it was that happened between them hanging in uncertainty, so he lets go and shakes his anxious thoughts away.

(Neither of them are able to get proper sleep that night, both tossing and turning on opposite sides of the room with an oblivious Dowoon between them.)

The awkwardness still hangs in the air during breakfast the next day, and not even Dowoon’s natural humor is enough to break the tension. The three friends pack their things in silence, and Dowoon volunteers to drive back to Seoul so that Jae and Wonpil could rest. They haven't even made it out of Gangwon-do proper when Wonpil hears Jae start to snore lightly in the backseat. He sighs. They’ll talk about it when they get to Seoul. But for now, he closes his eyes and lets Jae’s quiet breathing lull him to sleep as they make the journey back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's right. taylor swift can write a whole album in the same amount of time i can write one (1) chapter.


	3. time, wondrous time

They don’t talk about it.

Jae really didn’t mean to avoid the conversation he knows they badly need to have; it’s just that he’s very terrible at talking about feelings. Especially feelings he still does not quite understand.

He likes Wonpil, that much he’s certain. If this whole thing happened in a different, more normal circumstance, he might even say he’s in love. Granted, he’s never really been in love before. But all the obvious signs are there: Wonpil makes him smile despite himself, makes him want to be a better person, makes him start to think that maybe the happiness he’s been looking for has been available to him all along, free for the taking – he just needs to believe that he deserves it. And Wonpil makes him want to deserve it.

It’s the _“what’s next?”_ that makes it complicated.

As it happens, Jae is leaving for home in four days (exactly on Christmas day, because it was the cheapest flight at the time he booked his trips). Though, if he’s being honest, the concept of “home” is getting blurrier by the day. It’s not like he’s anchored to anything or anyone in L.A. It’s the place he knows best, knows like the back of his hand, but it’s not the place he wants to return to at the end of a long, tiring day. Isn’t that what home is supposed to feel like?

Jae directs all his frustration at the scarf he’s knitting – or, well, trying to knit. It was only supposed to be his practice scarf, a simple strip of stockinette rows using a single ball of cranberry-red yarn. But a few days before Christmas he realizes he hasn’t gotten Wonpil a gift and figures it’d be a sweet gesture to give him the very first thing he created with his own hands. Plus, it seemed poetic that he came here because of the knitted sweaters and would leave Wonpil with a knitted scarf. Or something. Jae is also very terrible at being sweet.

Not that he’s any better at knitting. He got the mechanics of it pretty quickly and the pattern he’s using is supposed to be the easiest one, but he’s learned that yarn seems to have a mind of its own. It’s like it can detect when Jae is too frustrated or too distracted or too aggressive and resists his manipulation, strands landing in places he does not want them to.

Jae is losing his mind over a particularly problematic row when Wonpil makes him put on his coat and practically drags him out of the house to shop for Christmas decorations.

“Wonpil, you do know we could just shop for anything online now, right?”

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” Wonpil retorts, mouth still stuffed with the toast he made Jae pay for.

There’s no fun in going shopping during the busiest week of the year either, Jae wants to say, but again it is impossible to argue with Wonpil at his cheeriest, most Wonpil state, so he simply heaves a defeated sigh.

Apparently the entire population of Seoul all decided to do their Christmas shopping today, so Wonpil brings them instead to a quaint alley near Hongdae that houses a line of vintage shops. They enter a warehouse shop of surplus goods, and Wonpil sprints straight to the holiday section. Jae takes a shopping cart and trails behind him, marveling both at the assortment of products in display and in the way Wonpil seems to have the whole place memorized. He accidentally discovered the store when he was in college, he tells Jae while trying on a tinsel hat; fell in love with how it never runs out of hidden treasures and he makes it a point to drop by every Christmas season.

“They always have a box of vintage ornaments on that side. Let’s go,” Wonpil says as he takes Jae’s ungloved hand and intertwines their fingers. The feel of Wonpil’s hand in his reminds Jae of that night after the wedding, walking by the frozen lake as he listens to Wonpil bare his first heartbreak. It was too dark to see anything then, but even without seeing his face, Jae knew it wasn't an easy thing to open up about. It makes him want to be brave, too.

A jukebox at the corner plays _What a Wonderful World_ and for the first time in his life, Jae thinks he finally understands the charm of Christmas. _It's a celebration of life's little miracles,_ Wonpil once told him, beaming as he taught Jae how to purl. Maybe it's time he made a miracle of his own.

\---

Christmas morning comes and Jae spends the entirety of it procrastinating from packing for his early evening flight. Instead, he finishes up the scarf and thinks about Wonpil.

They still haven’t talked about what happened at the lake. There were several instances in the past week where Jae would find Wonpil looking at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to open the topic. But Jae just could never find the courage to do it, especially since he still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.

Jae looks at his phone and checks the time. Roughly four hours to go till his flight, and he still hasn’t packed. He sighs. Better get it over and done with. He walks out of the bedroom and finds Wonpil in the kitchen, cutting up carrots while humming _All I Want for Christmas is You._ Jae walks up behind him, but Wonpil is too focused to notice his presence.

“What are you making?”

Wonpil jumps slightly at the sound of his voice. “Oh, you’re up! I’m making you kimbap, in case you’re allergic to all the airplane food.”

Jae snorts. “That _is_ very likely.”

Wonpil turns to face him and Jae realizes they were too close, close enough that he could see the nervousness in Wonpil’s eyes. He thinks he sees something else there, too. Something like longing.

Wonpil gulps and blinks at him. “Did... did you want to say something?”

“Oh, right. I just wanted to give you this, before I leave.”

Wonpil stares down at the scarf and scrunches his nose. Jae is just about to ask him what he thinks when he realizes Wonpil is actually sniffing and trying to stop tears from falling.

“That bad, huh?” Jae says sheepishly. Perhaps he should’ve just bought a proper gift, after all.

“No! It’s not that! It’s not… not bad at all. It’s just that –” _Sniff._ “–you got this whole section wrong,” Wonpil finishes with a mischievous smirk, though his voice and his red-rimmed eyes still betray his sadness.

Jae snatches the scarf from his hand. “Okay that’s it, I’m taking it back.”

“Noooooooo Jae I was just joking! Jae! That’s miiiine,” Wonpil whines, crossing his arms as he glares at Jae through his teary eyes. He pouts, and it’s the most adorable darn thing Jae has ever seen and in this moment he realizes there’s no use trying to skirt around the truth: he’s in love with Kim Wonpil.

It’s a very peculiar thing, love. For days on end, he was trying to ignore it and rationalize what he’s feeling, because it’s what always worked for him. Jae always functioned best with logic, with categorizing things and placing correct labels and following the course of action that makes the most sense. And this? This thing he’s about to do makes absolutely no sense, but Jae finds that he really doesn’t care.

So he wraps the scarf around Wonpil’s neck and tugs gently, pulling him closer so that their faces are almost touching. He presses their lips together, just briefly, then pulls away to see Wonpil smiling that wide, blinding smile that knocks the wind out of him and _ah, fuck it._ Jae kisses him again, and again, and again, and he thinks he can spend a million lifetimes just kissing Wonpil like this, actually.

It’s Wonpil who pulls away eventually, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you have a flight in four hours?”

“This is more important.”

“What? Kissing?”

“Nope, not just kissing. Kissing _you._ ”

“That’s sweet, but you really do have a flight in four hours.”

Jae ignores him and tries to lean in for another kiss but Wonpil dodges, still staring him down to demand an explanation.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying! I’m not taking the flight, okay?” Jae throws his hands up in frustration.

“What do you mean you’re not taking the flight?”

“It means I’m not taking the flight. I’m not leaving.” Jae tries to sound as certain as he can, as though he didn’t just make the decision five seconds ago, but Wonpil sees through the act because now he’s giving Jae a stern look with hands on his hips.

“Park Jaehyung. What are you doing?”

Jae exhales defeatedly. “I don’t know, Wonpil, okay? I like you and I like it here and I don’t want to leave. I wasn’t sure of it before but I am now. I know it sounds stupid but whatever. What’s wrong with taking a risk, yeah? I don’t have anything to lose, anyway.”

Wonpil’s expression softens. “You like me?”

“God, Wonpil, so much.” Jae cups Wonpil’s cheek, gently, and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to kiss you, when we were by the lake. Actually, no, I’ve been wanting to kiss you way before that. It’s just that… I’ve never felt like this before, you know? Like my heart would burst if I didn’t see your face every morning, like I could spend the rest of my life just listening to you laughing at your own terrible jokes, like I could leave the place I always thought was home if it meant coming home to you. I like you so much it scared me, so I didn't say anything until now. But I think... I think I'm more scared of losing you again, or... or, _god,_ losing you forever. So I'm not getting on that plane.”

“You like me that much, huh?” Wonpil whispers after a beat. It’s snarky, playful, like most Wonpil responses are, but the tremor in his voice and the twinkle in his eyes say everything that Jae needs to know.

“Yes. Now please let me kiss you?”

“Okay but you gotta start paying me rent.” Wonpil takes one end of the scarf around his neck and wraps it around Jae, leaning up on his tiptoes to press kisses on Jae’s forehead, then on his cheeks, on the tip of his chilly nose, on his mouth. Jae catches it with his own lips and deepens the kiss, pulling Wonpil closer by the waist.

For the record, Jae is completely aware of how ridiculous this whole thing is – flying all the way across the world to see his childhood best friend, falling in love with said best friend, and then deciding to stay. If you told him a month ago that his holiday vacation would lead to _this,_ he never would have believed it. Hell, Brian probably wouldn’t even believe him now. The thing is, Jae was never the type to make unplanned detours. But then he feels Wonpil smile against his lips, and he thinks, maybe this was his destination all along. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe i finished it. thank you for reading, and happy holidays! i know this year has been tough for everyone but i hope this cheered you up a little. please do leave comments if you liked it, or follow my [day6 twitter](https://twitter.com/jaepills) if you'd like to chat!

**Author's Note:**

> \- fic title and chapter titles are all from 'invisible string' by taylor swift  
> \- sorry if this is so boring jdkjsfjsj the next chapter will be from wonpil's pov and will hopefully make more sense than this first one


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